Adjudication
by Just Look in the Mirror
Summary: When Attorney Margaret Dawes investigates the iniquitous intentions of Dr. Jonathan Crane regarding his hit-request and affiliations with the mob, she is hurled into more than what she bargained for. (Batman Begins)
1. Due Process

A/N: This is my first shot at fic-ing in the Batman Begins/Dark Knight category, and I'm an avid fan of Nolan's Batman trilogy. I can only hope that this story works out to rouse satisfaction in other fans.

Rated M for mature language, sexual themes, some violence and miscellaneous adult content. In reading & reviewing, don't hold down any tips/concerns. Be constructive and considerate.

_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman nor any of the characters in its entirety._

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><p><span><strong>I. Due Process<strong>

A ridiculous amount of relief flooded Margaret Dawes' system at the phone call she'd received not five minutes earlier. Mr. Zsasz's newly assigned lawyer arrangement was verified that morning, and Henry Gage was set to abide Gotham's latest-caught crook that day in the courtroom, while she was off the hook.

Actually, Maggie had personally chosen not to proceed on with Victor Zsasz's case, for upon meeting him the week earlier, he'd given her a look not even Satan himself could have possibly been capable of expressing. He'd sent the most frigid of chills down the 26-year-old's spine, and that was a rarity.

In the majority of Lawyer Dawes' prior cases, she'd worked with felonious women, say the rebellious kleptos and prostitutes, keeping her distance from the men for wise reasons. Her own entitlement had proven worthy not when Victor gawked her down like a hawk over its prey or cheaply flirted with her, but when he raped her ears with the most defiling proposition she'd ever be addressed...thus far.

"_Such a gorgeous honey you are...what're ya doin' in a place like this anyway? In a dangerous, scary, big city like Gotham? You're only lined up for an unwanted fuck, baby. You watch the News, don't ya? You see all the rape n' murder that happens on the daily 'round here. You see that We have this hell-ridden city at our hands…"_ he paused to chuckle. "_And cocks, if ya get my gist."_

"That'll be _enough_, Mr. Zsasz," Maggie bit out from across the table at the GCPD's holding cell. Victor was cuffed to his seat for cautionary reasons regarding her safety, as well as any other lawyer who'd be sitting across this serial killer in particular. Ah yes, Victor Zsasz had allegedly offed a presumed eighteen men and nine woman in the last year and a half alone, most of the murdered women having been forced on at Zsasz's sickening will.

"What is it, toots? Ya don't like the truth?"

"Oh, the truth is all I'm here for, Victor," Maggie confirmed, donning a more stern mien for him than what she had usually put on for most of her clients, and for a good purpose. Maggie was already quite aware that this man was far from innocent, she could conclude as much from his report, the one she'd read before meeting him in person. Though here in Gotham at this time, the field of lawyers were swarmed with men, both young and old, the few women being older and more promising in appearance, therefore, more promising in duty. For the time being, Maggie was the youngest amongst the local attorneys, and her innocent, sweetheart looks weren't all that appealing to the crooks who wanted _convincing enough_ lawyers. Sure, Maggie wanted to find the decency in these criminals, but when such simply ceased to exist within them, Zsasz for prime example, then money seemed to be of more importance. Not to mention Maggie had been having difficulty getting hired in the last few months as crime had been at its worst in years. The demons of Gotham required only the best counsel, and Maggie still had some hardening to gain.

Mr. Zsasz had seemed to take interest in her, perhaps in more ways than what she was prepared for or comfortable with. He had a satisfying price set for her, and she was desperate. The feeling had been eating her up as her wallet had been slimming down. Of course she didn't want anything at all to do with such worthless scum, but what did she really have to lose? _The justice of those nineteen+ people he'd slaughtered?_ Maggie chastised herself for thinking idealistically. She'd just have to leave that to Rachel, who was making the bank Maggie could only dream for.

She could only nervously chew at her bottom lip as she flipped through this man's records. She could look at him without even knowing him or his history and infer that he was no-one to mess with. She hadn't bothered to even read through the entire packet at hand, for what real use would it bring her anyway? She returned her focus to the man down the table with a silent sigh.

"Mr. Zsasz, do you vow your innocence?" she pointlessly inquired.

"You ought to believe it," he scoffed. "Otherwise, why would I even bother with wasting what money I got left on one of you? Oh...then again, I can think of plenty o' use for you, doll. Hell, I think I'd surrender my life's savings for a night with you."

She suppressed the urge to tell him off, maybe even walk out on him with a clean-cut slap across that ugly, scarred face of his, but she decided against it, for her earning's sake.

"Let's stay on track…" she laughed edgily. "Why don't we discuss the game plan for the 22nd. Now, as I'm sure you can assume, Judge Faden is going to be challenging to convince, so you need to be ready to face the stand confident and lacking guilt."

"Actually, not a whole lot of diligence will be essential," he lazily informed as he leant back in his chair. "I got someone who's kinda notorious for gettin' naughty folk like me out of the slammer's way...though, the nut house don't sound too fantastic either, don't it? Eh, better than taking it up the ass every goddamn rinse, I'd say."

"Oh, uh, who is going to...try to get you out of imprisonment at Blackgate?" she asked him, her tone laced with incredulity.

"Some Head Doc at Arkham named Crane or whatever. He made a deal with my eh, employer. Just need a useful lawyer to fit into the picture enough to suit the judge's concerns. That's where you come in, babe. Really, all ya gotta do is sit pretty and wait an hour or so till all is said and done."

Baffled, she went on to ask, "Then why even invest four hundred an hour on me if I'll hardly be of any virtue to your case?"

Chortling huskily to himself, he leant forward and met his cold glare with her own. "I spend six to twelve months 'recovering' at the loony bin, get out, then meet up with ya in a nice hotel somewhere outside of the city where you'll be doin' some _other_ business. By then I can likely raise the price at your favor...give ya five..._ten grand_ per hour. That sound fair?"

How typical. She should have figured this creep had different intentions.

"Of course that will only work if the 22nd's endeavors in the courtroom work out as planned."

At that, all she could really say was, "You've got to be shitting me."

This waste of space was even more pathetically cunning than she'd presumed days earlier. With a terse groan of disappointment, she swiftly stood from the cool metal seat and snatched her briefcase from the floor. Huffing in annoyance, she heeled for the exit and buzzed for security to let her out.

"I'm afraid I will not be able to accommodate your twisted scheme, Mr. Zsasz."

"The fuck? You're already here! Everything's all set and bound to work out without a single petty tactic out of place! Your job is simple and you'll be gettin' paid to the hilt in just months to come," he negotiated frustratingly, his fists clenched in evident irritation, going purple with vehemence.

The guard was quick to approach the door, and Maggie was even quicker to exit the Police Department. Disgust rang though her as she headed for her Porsche. Her long, dark brunette hair that ran down her back in ripples swayed in the light breeze her as she scurried off, nearly tripping over her three-inch heels as she skipped hastily to her car.

Maggie Dawes had met and worked with many bad souls in this cursed city over the last four years since starting this occupation, but some of these malefactors were simply too much for her to handle, with composure and affirmation, that was. She wasn't even_ so sure_ she wanted to be a lawyer once upon a time when she was nineteen. Honestly, she only sought working with the law an obligation, just to contribute her worthiness to her highly lawful family, taking after her mother who was a judge out in Passaic County and her father who'd recently retired from his sheriff's work after paying the last thirty-six years forward to society. Her older brother, Arthur, took after dad and was known for his grandiose patrolling at the University of Gotham.

And of course there was Rachel, the second oldest and most illustrious by far, being the Assistant District Attorney and all. She certainly shined amongst both Artie and Maggie with her astounding determination and incredulous amount of dignity, and who could forget her eavesdropping habits? It would only be a matter of time before Rachel discovered Maggie's attempted shot at working with one of Gotham's most depraved sickos. She hated to ponder how the older sis would berate her on that ignorant, inconsiderate and _stupid!_ move. It hardly mattered that she wasn't going through with the man's lewd proposal anyway; Rach would still scold her younger sibling's stupid decision, and their already strained relationship would tumble further downhill from there.

Maggie had always gotten along far better with Artie all her life. Rachel's more strict authoritarian mannerisms and pretentious knacks irritated Margaret to a point of sisterly distaste, whereas Arthur was more laid-back and okay with the tumultuous times. He was one to let the rain pour down on him without even an thinking to grab an umbrella, even if this rain were to be acidic, and he'd always let the chaos transpire, for whatever happened, whether good or bad, was inevitable no matter the actions taken for prevention, and Maggie just couldn't help but admire his accepting charisma.

She herself was never one to really speak out against what seemed wrong, for she reckoned that some things were best let be. It bothered her to see Rachel work for the top spot growing up. She saw Rachel's _need_ to be Class President and _need_ to excel in absolutely everything she did to be gaudy and lord-like, as if she just _had_ to be the best there was. Sure, Maggie may have been misinterpreting her sister's actual purposes or true colors, but she knew what she saw, and whether the DA's helping hand would admit to it or not, she was prideful.

Yes, she did what seemed right for the people, but truth be told, she tried way too hard. Maggie shook her head at her sister's immense disability to give up once and a while, just when the situation was too far out of her reach or jurisdiction to be dealt with at her hands. For instance, Maggie knew in the pit of her being that Mr. Geoffrey Pimby was far from innocent on that trial over his wife's murder just four weeks earlier, but when the court so foolishly ruled his innocence, she shrugged, leaving their decision conclusive. Really, what could _she_ have done to turn the tables? She was wise enough to recognize her limitations, and Rachel just...was not.

Not to be gotten wrong, she loved her sister and cared for her sake and well-being just as tremendously as family should, but she would definitely modify some of those irksome calibers of hers had she the power. Rachel had always out-shined both her and Artie in performance, competition and even grades. Though Rachel's SAT scores were a mere three points higher than her younger sister's results, she still earned herself extended offers from only New Jersey's best schools, not to mention that letter from Harvard that she declined for Gotham U.

Yet, Maggie could have accomplished more if she _really_ wanted to, but her aim in life was minorly diminished from Rachel's priorities. She was more reserved in the actions she took and not one to compete for the throne, so to speak. She rather enjoyed bossing herself around and making her own choices, leaving the more presumptuous sibling to the live out the more contrary standards.

ooo

That approaching May, Artie would be moving out to Los Angeles, where he accepted an opening for security work at a newly opened antique museum, which meant that Maggie would be right to solidify her taut relationship with Rachel, or else resort to pretending that she didn't even have a sister, which, in all honesty, seemed to be the more immature and irresponsible course to take.

Rachel had never had a humongous circle of friends, for her work-ethic overrode her need to build or sustain a social life, at least that was Maggie's theory. So, who better to rant to every blue moon than her own flesh and blood sister? Who better to cling onto her and deem a friend over some snob or asshole in the courtroom or at the Firm than Margaret?

And to tell the truth, Maggie hadn't ventured far out into the gregarious realm herself, though her reasons differed from Rachel's. It wasn't necessarily a hardcore workaholic drive that was holding her back, because frankly, she did not possess one, but it was more the lack of interest in having more than six people outside of the kin brim her phone's contact list, or in other words, her dislike for memorizing a platter of birthdays and keeping open ears for whatever bitching or other miscellaneous yakking they had to finish didn't quite capture Maggie's heart's greatest aspirations.

Therefore, she had Artie, a public relations executive she met in college, Tina Goldman, and Rachel to call her acquaintances. Then again, with her brother leaving Gotham in short time to return for a visit _maybe_ that Thanksgiving, Miss Dawes would be well-off forming a stronger bond with her mostly distanced sis.

She could start by giving her a call once she got back to her apartment.

….

She'd lived on the fourth floor of Lodell Apartments since her junior year of college. Before then, she was sharing space with Rachel in her condo, and it wasn't the least bit awkward since Rachel dated the Constitution more than men. The few, select men who did date Rachel were more bland than a piece of stale wheat toast and made love like seniors on too much Viagra — they were sloppy and obnoxiously fervent, as told by the older sister herself.

Maggie could identify with that greatly when it came to trying to date gentlemen of the law, with the exception of irresistibly attractive police officers whom she had yet to date. Most lawmen were all too boring and tightassed to elicit excitement, something both women craved. The last man Maggie had gone out with was Keith Netmile, a 28-year-old telemarketer whom she dated for nearly fourteen months, right up until he confessed his infidelity after she'd gotten back to town after her two-week vacation in New York City. As guilt-ridden as he had shown himself to be at the drunken one-night-stand he had with one of his bud's secretaries, Maggie would have nothing more of him, and hadn't since February of that year.

With the shattered heart she had, she isolated herself from people and events even more than before and she grew a taste for tequila and other drinks she had loathed in earlier times. Every day, for a while, Keith would fill up her voice mail with his regret, and at one point when the self pity flourished into something she could no longer handle, she called him up and asked not only why he'd cheated in the first place, but why he would bother telling her about it when he _must have_ known that his dirty little secret would only put their relationship to an abrupt end. With the lousy, cheap and inessential excuses came her dramatic hang-up, resulting in the chipping of her Verizon mobile.

She met up with guys seldom after that crushing blow. As cliche as it may have sounded, she loved this man and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, so how and why he did such an unnecessary thing to her made her blood boil and her heart vow to go asexual for a long while. Artie was a good listener, but Rachel had more thorough advice to give when it came to this sort of drawback. Maggie could say that her sister and her had probably been more close than ever before in the time she struggled with her exes cruel deed.

By late March, she had learned to take it easy. There were many fish in the sea, and all she had to do was avoid the sharks and piranhas of society and she'd meet Mr. Faithful, or so she wished.

She began dialing up Rachel's number as she dug into the contents of her purse in search for her apartment's keys. It was just past six in the evening and she was sure Rachel would be on break at this time, _happily_ ready to hear the yammerings of another stressful day dealing with shitty-mannered former clients-to-be.

"So this one jack-ass proposed that we get together and hook up after his _brief _imprisonment, as if he truly had it in his head that I would bang him for what money he had to surrender...needless to say, the experience was brutal and extremely awkward, Rach. With the crime rates shooting through the roof, it's a real bitch finding even slightly acceptable people to work with these days."

"Well, I give my condolences, Mag, but right now I'm under some _hotter_ water. I'm working on another one of those imbecilic cases where this hitman qualifies for treatment at the Arkham Asylum over what life sentence in Blackgate he clearly deserves. The Head of the asylum has already gotten two men working for the mob off the hook and being cared for and doted on in his facility. I'm going to investigate this further on the 22nd during Victor Zsasz's hearing."

Maggie just barely caught herself from stumbling over her own feet once she was inside her apartment. "U-um, Victor _Zsasz_, you say?" she stammered in disbelief.

"Yes, he worked for Falcone, you know, our city's leading Mob Boss. I've got a nasty feeling that this Dr. Crane will be swaying over Faden's more credulous side, as I've witnessed first-handedly on more than enough occasions in just the last couple of months."

'_Guess I've really dodged a bullet there; even more so than I thought...' _Maggie mentally concluded. She wouldn't be too stunned if Rachel did find out of her sister's forbidding chosen client, but to be in the _same_ courtroom with her on the _same_ day with the _same_ case would have just made everything increasingly complicated between them and what already rocky sisterhood they shared.

It seemed that she had made a sagacious decision on dropping his case. Now she just had to have faith that Mr. Zsasz would find another lawyer before his due day in court, otherwise she may be appointed to him against her own will, and after those perverse remarks he'd addressed to her...no, no, she couldn't deal with him. She simply wouldn't. She would find someone, anyone else, even if their offer didn't measure up to what Victor had to give. If there was one characteristic her and her sister shared, it was self respect.

As Maggie kicked her heels off and removed most of her work clothing, she scanned over the top shelf of her refrigerator in search of her still half-full jar of chili peppers. Her thoughts lingered over this Head Doctor that both Rachel and Zsasz mentioned.

"So, um, this doctor, Crane, right? Is he sexy?" she giggled into the receptor as she strainingly attempted to open the peppers that she had closed too snugly the night before. She knew that particular question would more than likely get on her sissy's nerves, for such inquires had always tended to when directed to Miss Overly Professional Dawes. Sure enough, a sharp sigh sounded from the other end.

"Well, he's better looking than most of the guys I work with to be completely honest. Though, I'll admit he's odd looking. He's got crystalline eyes; really light blue, with maybe a hint of turquoise, even. He wears feminine-framed glasses and has really..._plump_ lips."

"Black man plump?" Maggie incited with a chuckle.

"...Yes...I suppose you could surmise that from looking at him. He's not too tall; we're actually about the same height. I towered over him a bit with my heels. He's thin and wears dexterous sweater vests underneath his coat...wait, why am I even talking about him? He's irritating, Margaret. There's something suspicious about him. I need to figure out exactly what he's playing at...I'm _almost _positive he's affiliated with Falcone…"

Maggie hadn't paid much attention to the second half of Rachel's statement, for she was more concerned with this doctor's physical appearance. Perhaps subconsciously, she wanted to meet someone new, someone like him, even if he was uptight and detached. Her breakup with Keith had still be tugging at her heartstrings and she could've used some distraction, even if that distraction's dick was attached to a man of arrogance. She didn't enjoy the presence of arrogant people, not one bit, but just so long as he didn't adulterate, she just might've been able to cope…

"How old is he?"

"Margaret, I don't want to talk about him anymore right now. I've got other, much more _dire_ matters on my plate."

She bit into the end of her cooled chili. "So, how old do you _think_ he is?" She wasn't going to let this topic slip out of reach so easily.

"I'm not sure."

"Ballpark."

"He's young...around twenty-eight or twenty-nine, I'd say. He doesn't look old enough to _run_ an institution for sure...but that isn't of cruciality. I need to focus on why he's so hellbent on keeping serial killers in the comfort of his asylum."

"You ought to be careful, Rach. I don't want you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. That's sure to only get you into danger, especially if you're with a godforsaken Tony Soprano."

"I'd personally compare him to Capone...and I have no choice _but_ to look into these things with more scrutiny than what I'm technically allowed. No one else takes any damn responsibility for these issues. The authorities are too accustomed to what sin corrupts this cursed, downtrodden wreck of a community, Faden just doesn't give a shit anymore, and Carl's too much of a chicken to step it up and go proactive when our society needs it the most."

"Mm, right. Y'know, we could always skip this city; go out to California with Artie. What are we getting out of staying here anyways? Why even try with these ruins anymore?"

"I can't just _forfeit_, Marg-"

"You might as well," she cut in. "I see what you are, sweetpea. Your efforts do appear worthwhile outwardly, but in reality, you're just wasting your time, and you know it, sister. How could you not? You've held this position for what, six, seven years? And yet, little improvement has been issued in your career. Face it, Rach, you've done all ya can, so maybe it's time to lay a little lower from here on out. Just a suggestion."

"Oh, here we go with the pessimism again! You know, you weren't such a downer when you were living with Keith. I think the break-up has changed you in negative ways."

"Screw that son of a bitch. My 'pessimism' has absolutely nothing to do with with that unfortunate consumer of my past."

"Well, you do tend to quit and just give up altogether before you break a single sweat, Maggie," Rachel huffingly admitted.

"_No_, I just don't exceed my limitations. I perform my part and leave all the rest be. For the record, I'm not trying to judge your ego. I'm only looking out for you."

"I am quite able to look after myself. I appreciate your concern, but I am older and I am more culturally informed and prepared for a backlash. Of course I see that my plans don't always work out in _my_ favor, but that doesn't denote the necessity to refrain from my goals. I refuse to let this city fall apart beyond repair."

"Overachiever."

"Okay, if you are yet again going to berate me, then I think we should just stop here for the night until you find it appropriate to open up to my prerogatives."

"I already told you I'm not judging you, Rach! I am just _warning _you! You're going to end up dead in a Narrows dump if you keep this up. There's no way the mob is going to condone much more of your idealistic procedures."

A scoff returned her way before a declaration of "_Maybe_ taking a risk is essential. Next time you're out there, whether downtown, in the Narrows or even driving past the superficially safest parts of our district, why don't you really take some time to analyze how endangered we all truly are. If we let the crime rates elevate any further we will all irrevocably face an unimaginable hell."

"_Then_ let us leave! Let this go...drop it and let it become the ghost town it was destined to be."

"You're a big girl, now, Margie, why don't you go live elsewhere on your own. I've got _my_ life set up here in Gotham."

"Then how am I supposed to watch your back? Fine, hypothetically comes a day when I'm residing out in LA or wherever and I call you up to receive no call back..._ever,_ 'cause if your confidence shines through this city much longer — you're gonna be some wild animal's dinner or-or a derelict's sex toy in some alleywa-"

"Alright, I've got more _important_ things to do. Goodnight."

"You need to _wake up_, Rach!"

Her debate had yet again resulted in futility. This summed up how most of their conversations went nowadays. An argument of some sort usually slithered in within the first couple of minutes into their interlocutors and they ended up similarly every time. This was one of the reasons why their terms were so rough. Artie didn't exactly play it safe himself but at least he was stubborn enough to keep far enough out of harm's way.

Maggie could sense turbulence ahead with this upcoming court case involving Zsasz and this alienated nuthouse director who she was oh so terribly eager to meet for some confounding reason. She would try again to talk her incredibly demanding sister out of pestering the city's badmen, though she had to remind herself that persuasion didn't abide well with the Assistant DA, nor ever had.

If Zsasz and Rachel were correct about Crane's loyalties with Falcone, then Rach was really asking for it. Maggie spent the remainder of that night contemplating how she was going to start cleaning up what clutter had already began to desecrate her sister's life. Just how in the hell was she going to save her from meeting an early demise?

She'd gotten Artie to deal with her on previous accounts, most of them having resulted in an _even more_ painstaking Assistant DA. Sometimes, Rachel interpreted her sibling's warnings as she would a challenge, and she'd fail to see the foolishness in her determination.

With the 22nd being just five short days away, Maggie panicked in her mental planning. Would she go through the taxing trouble of begging Artie to stay in Gotham and watch over Rachel with more security than she had ever been able to muster, or would she just sit around, awaiting the outcome?

Her thoughts drifted when Keith's number flashed up on the caller ID, and she was gratuitous for it, just this one time.

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><p><strong>Hey, thank you bunches for checking this out. Please do leave a review, whether constructive, brief, suggestive or praising; all are welcome. I do not have a beta so I apologize for any spelling grammatical mistakes (if any). Future chaps will be lengthier. **

**Jonathan Crane shall be introduced in the following chapter :D I hope you enjoyed this first segment and more to come!**

**-JLM**


	2. The Most Deadpan Man She'd Ever Meet

**II. The Most Deadpan Man She'd Ever Meet**

Unplugging the landline from the wall didn't feel good enough. Seriously, if 'Netmile, K' popped up again she would not be able to stop herself from smashing that phone to pieces. What else was she supposed to do? Crawl back to him like nothing more had happened than an accidental utterance of some other woman's name moaned during sex? Not that _that _would've swung with her well either but all in all the jerk smothered her heart. Maggie had never been one to forgive so easily. It was just another trait she shared with Rachel.

His heartfelt apologies were of zero significance. You don't fall in love with someone to accept their infidelities. Love didn't work like that. Not to Maggie it didn't. If Keith was in such a horny rush to screw the nearest bimbo while his girlfriend was out of town on just a wee bit of business work, then what did she really matter to him anyway?

None of that mattered any by now. There was no going back, even if Keith truly did regret his choice. What was done, was done. He'd left his ex lover to woeful two-hour long baths after work, burning her entire collection of romance novels, and sobbing herself to sleep each night in reverie of her and Keith's best moments.

It was pathetic.

By the end of April, Maggie had chosen to strive for her sister's more abstinent lifestyle; anything to exterminate any future heartbreak, for a while, at least. She had to change the locks on her apartment's door after coming home to find the loser awaiting her, almost as if everything between them was normal. After that last horrible call, she would have her number changed. If direly necessary, she would get a restraining order against him, but she really didn't want to resort to such desperation yet, though Rachel would have it taken care of in a heartbeat and easily at that, with her highly ranked sovereignty. If and when _that_ measure had to be taken, Rachel would be right on it.

The heated words of that conversation stung in her mind as she prepared her nightly bath, searching for the lavender scented bath salts she'd gotten for her birthday last December. She avoided using anything that the Bastard had ever gotten her, being sure to rid every last necklace, pair of earrings and even the mugs he'd gifted her with.

She would not cry this time. She'd done quite enough of that over the last few months. Her tear ducts were bound to dry out if much more useless weeping was done, and it was time to be strong and move on anyway.

On her radio tuned a song that would dishearten her spirits more so than what was healthy after twenty minutes of listening to recent, top-grossing pop songs. On came the hour of sixties hits, and so played 'Somebody to Love' by Jefferson Airplane. It was only appropriate to cringe in depression, regardless of how typically cliched doing just that may have been.

* * *

><p>Maggie was on the prowl for another client while her sister was situated in the conformity of the City Hall's courtroom with Zsasz's case. She could only keep her fingers crossed that the incarcerated felon would keep his stare and focus off of Rachel. As true as it was that her sister knew how to deal with the crooks and keep herself safe at the same time, Maggie still fretted fixatingly over the whole set-up.<p>

What if she spoke out against him when the case shifted towards Zsasz's favor? Rachel fought vigorously for righteousness to result in each of her cases and lately only wrong was going down. Falcone had his shit together, and it wouldn't be soon before long until Gotham's Justice System fell apart in its entirety. Well, the system was _already_ pretty fragmented at that point. Maggie, being the gloomily logical lawyer she was, knew that their society wasn't going to blossom into an established nor secure one anytime soon, if ever.

Rach could stand her ground all she liked, but Maggie was proud to slink into her seat after giving something her best shot. Hopefully Rachel wouldn't reel in any direct attention from the mob; that was what Maggie was worried about the most. She'd seemed to steer clear in those last two cases involving Falcone's men and this doctor, but she couldn't debate this much longer, or else she'd have to enroll herself into the Witness Protection Program before she wound up six feet under.

Maggie had voiced her concerns again and again all through their twenties, but as always, Rachel would do what she felt necessary. Now that she was turning thirty in just weeks to come, what more could the youngest Dawes do or say to morph the ADA's instincts? Perhaps the 22nd's case conclusion would make Rachel relax her methods.

...

The sisters had met up at noon, just an hour and a half after Zsasz's sentencing...to the homely nuthut. They sat outside a cafe with their frappuccinos, lunches and much to discuss.

"I know he's onto something. He's obviously working for Falcone. This was his _third_ attestation of bail. This time, I caught up with him and got straight to the matter of why he views it essential to treat these _murderers _with counseling, decent heating and well-cushioned living arrangements. And what he had to _excuse_ - ooh! I'm still pissed out of my mind about it…"

"Mm, so what did he counter with?" Maggie asked, fighting back a smile.

"Well, his first response didn't get to me as much as what he had to say when he saw Carl in the lobby. He said he would've "testified otherwise" if he deemed Zsasz's placement where he _really_ belongs...the wisenheimer asshole."

"You must admit, he had a point there," Maggie said in all technicality.

"...I went on to bluntly state his involvement, with this being his third visit. He looked at me as if I'd told his mother to fuck off and said "Well, the work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane", but as he began to heel off in an attempt to cowardly escape our discussion, I told him off on his corruption. That's when Carl was hurled into this mess. Crane had the _balls_ to critique Carl on his arrangements for me, like he thought I have my limitations when it comes to trying to bring out the good in these kinds of cases...he told him he ought to "check with me" on the implications I'm authorized to make! I cannot begin to explain how difficult it was for me to refrain from telling him to go blow himself! Formality is such a nuisance to withhold some days…"

"You know I'd've told the ass off. You can't let people get away with snide remarks like that. Hell, he probably got off on that. You let him win not only the case, but a godforsaken argument. That's shameful, Rach."

"Ugh...well, it's not over yet. I've got to look into this man...see where his motives are going from here. I hardly believe I'll be able to stomach another day in that courtroom with him. He's testified his last occupant. I'll see to that."

Maggie loosened up and felt a wave of delight wash through her. She did like to see Rachel keep on her heels, bold and primed in circumstances like this.

…

The News had been all about this mysterious caped crusader for the last couple of weeks. He'd struck Gotham out of nowhere, his strike having decreased criminal activity profoundly over that space of time. Despite the oddness of this man - or thing, whatever or whoever this discreet savior was, it, he or possibly she was making things a whole lot simpler for Maggie. She rather liked working with people who wrote bad checks and tried to smuggle lipstick and CDs out of stores over the cold and hardened killers.

Rachel nor Maggie were too concerned with the identity of this vigilante who sported bat-like gear until Rachel was affected by this thing...personally. It must have been just five days after Mr. Zsasz's case when the ADA was _just about_ offed by two men, whom without a doubt worked for Falcone.

She'd stayed at Maggie's apartment the same night of her attack and confrontation that left her baffled and in shock. For the first time in her life, she could say she was borderline traumatized. Maggie had feared something like this would happen, but the uneasy premonitions had wafted around the back of her mind, being the least of her worries, for she hadn't truly believed that the mob would ever go after her sister, especially over what seemed so petty.

"I'd gotten my taser out, and the one guy ran, and I thought _I'd_ scared him off," Rachel explained as she laid curled up on the sofa more shaken up than her very first day in court. Not even the four glasses of wine had eased her down any as she recalled that night's wild experience. "Then I saw_him_, the Batman. Out of caution, I shot at him, but it only clung to his suit, leaving him unharmed. However, this man had come to warn me. As I'm sure you could guess without me telling you, Falcone had sent them to kill me. He told me that I have rattled his cage...he gave me these photos, for um, leverage to get things moving along. Cutting to the chase, I asked him who he was, and he didn't give me his name, only the assurance that he's on our side. Then, after I'd picked up the photos had I looked up to see that he disappeared, literally out of thin air…"

"Jesus Christ, Rach, this was too fucking close! Shit! What are we going to do? Surely this - this _Batman_ can't be at your side the next time this happens! God!" She paced around her living room in a frenzied panic. "O-okay! Not to worry, babe! We'll get you into witness protection asap! I'm sure Carl can hook us up with-"

"No, no, Maggie, that won't be necessary...for now, at least. We just need to devise a strategy here. This man has confirmed who's side he's on. I've got this evidence here that'll get the ball rolling. I think we'll be fine."

"And what if we're not? Hmm? It looks as if your outrageous undertakings have finally crossed the line!" She swigged her Merlot straight from the bottle, consumed with anxiety, anger and hopelessness as she continued to move about the vicinity. Tears were soaking her cheeks with new purpose tonight, and now she had something to legitimately freak out over.

"Calm yourself. Everything is going to be alright. This Batman knows what he's doing. He's got crime under control on _some_ level, which is improvement from what we were dealing with just several weeks ago."

Not paying much attention at being solely focused on her sister's attack, Maggie inquired "That doctor did this to you, didn't he? Had a hit placed on you for...that son of a bitch! What a pussy! I can't believe it, Rachel! You go and uh, 'rattle his cage' or whatever and he retaliates by whining to the mob, going as far as to have ya killed just because you ruffled his fragile little feathers! We've got to report him!"

"We don't have definitive _proof_, Maggie. I can't just accuse the Head of an asylum of affiliations with the mob until I have actual, reliable evidence...It's unfortunate, yes, but there is nothing we can legally do-"

"We'll confront the timid bastard then," she proposed with enlightenment. "We'll pay him a little visit over at his facility and we'll get ours...make him suffer for what he tried to do to you."

"No, Margaret, we're not doing that either. That would just invite more trouble in...more unwanted, unneeded trouble. The best thing we can do right now is keep a low guard and have faith that this vigilante can make a positive difference. Neither of us should put ourselves out there for attention, or else we'll both be meeting an early fate."

"Why don't we tell Artie? All I want is for that asshole to feel immense pain...y'know, we need to work some karma into his meticulous environment. What goes around shall come around, Rach. We can have Art beat this worthless guy to a stump-"

"Did you not comprehend what I am saying? No-one, not you, Arthur, nor myself, are going to be in the same building with Crane until further ado. We are not going to blindly go forth and punish anyone when we're _this_ defenseless. Don't be a fool. I'm okay. That's what is important. He'll get his later on. I can guarantee that."

Maggie had never felt so vulnerable to this suspenseful joke of a city. She was supposed to lose her sister that night. That, she couldn't have lived with. As irksome as Rach could be, she was loved heavily by her family, the most by her sister, whether she realized that or not. Maggie would not be arranging a premature funeral in short time to come. She would make damn sure of that.

"Can you?" she asked, leaving that question in the air, alone, without an answer to accompany it.

* * *

><p>Maggie was on the streets at by 7:30 that next morning. Her nerves were aflame and her train of thought was relentlessly drunken on what terrors and hell awaited her sibling and herself down the road. How long would it be until they both found themselves before gun barrels, tied up to chairs in some private garage where they'd be bulleted down and carelessly tossed into a ditch or lake to be found weeks, if not months later by some drifter or other passersby?<p>

Rachel was being hunted, and that fact within itself made Maggie's heart skip a minute's worth of beats. She was incredibly repulsed that someone would even think to perform such barbarity on a young businesswoman. She chose to let Rachel's request to keep out of this conniving asylum director's way fly right over her head because she simply couldn't just sit around and wait for this mask-wearing freakshow to swoop around and beat these villains...For who knew when that would happen or if it would even.

Maggie had crossed over to the Narrows seldom during her life growing up in Gotham. Artie had done some security work in this region of the city before, though he would try to avoid those openings if he could. As brute and masculine as he was towering at 6'2, he still struggled to brave the run-down slums that made up Gotham's worst section.

Murder, rape, theft and other basic factors of terror overpowered the whole of the Narrows, thereby only making it rational that the Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane is located in that particular area. These limits were no place for a female lawyer of Midtown Gotham to be exploring, especially during nightfall. Early morning rendered the coast clear in the eyes of Maggie. The derelicts and rapists were at bay in their underground hideouts or alleyways and business men and women were out and about at this hour. She didn't count on spotting a police officer resting at every other lane, assuring her safety, but she had her mase and taser handy, and she was going nowhere else after her stop at Arkham.

The streets were dead, more so than she was content with. She braced herself for an out-of-the-blue jump or hit-and-run, even as she drove at thirty-five miles per hour. She'd watched those reports. She'd seen all that went on in this town, even when one was careful.

The bridge leading to the sanatorium had been lowered an hour and forty minutes before her arrival. As she parked, she wondered whether or not she needed to make an appointment beforehand, though it was a little late for that consideration. Besides, this wasn't your average business meet; it was a message that needed a curt and lucid delivery. A fierce, livid, threat that was intended to stain his mind for the remainder of his days. He was not to dare _ponder_ tormenting a Dawes again.

She allowed herself a shaky sigh of hesitation before she got out of her car and scurried for the entrance. The building's exterior had appeared tidy enough with the simple brick layout and aligned array of windows both vast and minuscule. Upon entering the facility, she could see nothing of much more thrill with the view of bland, pale walls, tiled flooring and no more than eight chairs in the lobby's waiting room. She soldiered on towards the front desk where a middle aged woman with defined frown creases and ordinary rectangular-framed spectacles was typing away, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her, apparently ignorant to the lawyer's arrival.

Retrieving her identification for show, she cleared her throat before introducing "Attorney Margaret Dawes. I would like to have a word with Dr. Crane. Do you know if he is available at this time?"

Without casting a wink her way, the secretary monotonously muttered "Well, do you have an appointment set up with him?"

"...No. However, it is crucial that I see him...within the hour. I have something of great importance to discuss with him."

"He generally only holds private sessions with people who've scheduled for an appoint-"

"Yes, I know," Maggie cut in briskly. "But would you please just see if he's free at the moment."

After being gifted with a glare and swift nod, the secretary spoke into the buzzer asking for the Head doctor's availability. Momentarily, he confirmed that he had fifteen minutes to spare before a meeting.

"I've got a lawyer here who says she needs to speak with you immediately."

"_Very well. Send her up."_

"The elevator is right down that hall over there. Go up to the seventh floor, then onto room 413 where his office is located. His name is labeled on the door. He should be in there."

"Thank you."

"He may rush you, just so you know. He's not known for his patience."

Neither was she. Her message shouldn't have taken too long to convey anyway.

"Alright. I won't be long."

As she neared his personal quarters, she began to perspire and feel nauseated in spite of nervousness. Her usually cool ego was trampled at the prospect of being slaughtered right in his office. She had no clue who she was dealing with here. Rachel hadn't told her much about this man, aside from a brief physical description of blue eyes and moderate handsomeness. He may have been a big fellow, tall and bulky, and quite capable of taking advantage of the twenty-something lawyer effortlessly, _or_, he could have been small and lanky with an attitude that dominated all…

She stood outside of Dr. Jonathan Crane's office, wary of knocking, even after what grotesque deed he'd almost gotten away with. She leant flimsily against the wood of the door, resting her head on the thick, opaque glass window that displayed his full name. She'd give herself no more than a single minute to dawdle out here. She _did_ force this on herself. Why, if Rachel had known where she was at that moment she'd've gone ballistic.

When the nerve wracking sound of her own jittery breathing annoyed her well enough, she brought her knuckle to the glass just once to be promptly permitted to come in. Her knees went numb and her palms were almost too sweaty to give the doorknob a measly turn.

With just the amount of endurance she needed, she stepped into the room to be faced with a broad wall of plaques and framed diplomas before turning her attention to the man seated at his desk, his hands folded neatly atop a folder and his gaze critical on her own.

"...Are you Dr. Crane?" she asked, more meekly than she would have liked.

"Yes, how may I help you?"

As a sudden sense of aggression entwined with mutiny swarmed through her, she closed the door rather roughly and marched up to the gawky albeit attractive director to slap her palms onto his desk and bark her vehemence right in his face.

"Just what the hell do you think you were doing sicking _the mob_ on my sister?!"

She left her statement at that to await his explanation, though it wouldn't excuse anything.

Putting on a facade of innocence already, he shrugged, saying "I'm afraid I am not up to date on your accusation. You must have me mistaken with someone else-"

"I knew you would try to pull off something like that. Don't bullshit me, Jonathan. You are in cahoots with Carmine Falcone, and you ordered a hit on the Assistant District Attorney, Rachel Dawes. You have threatened the life of my sister as well as the balance of my family. The next time someone, whether it be my sister, someone who bumps into you in the streets or, hell, I don't know, your own _mother_ gets on your nerves, settle your frustration like an adult rather than seeking the assistance of top of the line hit men. God, you're pitiful."

She composed herself by straightening her posture, but how could she remain relaxed when such a nonchalant, detached expression was presented for her? Silence filled the air they shared while Maggie thought hard on what to snap at him next. She couldn't just leave her words at that. It didn't feel potent enough.

"Will that be all?" he asked, breaking the silence for her.

As if that were an invitation to further test her argumentative skills, she ground out "I'm going to have the authorities know of your illicit actions...I wouldn't be surprised if you are mistreating your patients. In fact, I'd bet my yearly salary that you are. However, that is out of my league, whereas family matters are not."

"And do you have corroboration? Or are you planning to tell the police with nothing to prove against me?"

"W-well, I - I know it was you!" she countered.

"I'd love to see where your 'knowledge' will take you. I bid you luck. Now, I have somewhere to go in just a few short minutes, so I'm going to have to ask you to be on your way."

"Why, you smug-"

"We can meet again another time if you'd like if my assertions haven't appeased your pointing fingers."

"I don't want anything more to do with you! You better stay the fuck away from my family or I will-"

"You will what?" he interjected coldly, coming to his feet to meander around his desk. "You know you can't display my guilt when you've nothing_to_ display. It was rather mindless of you to come around here and trigger my stress further. With that declared, will you dismiss yourself independently or will I need to notify security?"

"Oh, I can tell you don't like dealing with people. Frankly, I'm no socialite myself, and I too deal with assholes frequently. Look, I think we both explicitly understand that my sister is _notorious_ for sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, but that does not give you free reign over her fate. What you did was cruel, ruthless, cowardly and ignorant. I apologize for the irritation Rachel has brought you_for_ her, since she will have nothing more to do with you. And_with that_ said, I'll leave you alone to what corrupt lifestyle you've got going for yourself." She spun around towards the doorway. "And furthermore, piss off."

Before her right hand could even reach the doorknob, another statement hit her ears.

"I'll have you know that I took the required measures against your sibling _not_ for my own personal benefit. Yes, she was pesky, and immensely so, but I reported her imprudent eavesdropping on strict protocol. Let us just say it was for the better."

"And how does ordering my sister _dead_ meet obligatory standards? I was kinda prepared for cheap denial from you before I got here, but this exceeds my wildest expec-"

A hasty ram into the door cut her off. She could scarcely think to yelp out in defense as her chin received its most piecing grip to date. The man in advantage stood mere inches from her, his left hand resting on her hip with smarting pressure, his right on her chin, no more soothing. His glasses had slid down his nose and slanted from the pace at which he'd stormed for her, and his breathy pants reeked of the melting mint on his tongue, assaulting her burning cheeks as he let her off with his final warning.

"I'd would _strongly_ advise departing my institution unless you'd prefer to find yourself deceased in little time to approach_or_ locked away in one of the _many_ unoccupied cells we have here in the building. Validating you insane is of far more simplicity than you'd understand."

"Let. Go. Of. Me. You. Cunning. Prick."

Strengthening his clutch, he seethed "Mind your dialect, Miss Dawes. I'll do what I must. I could care less whether or not my actions suit you or your sister. I'll remind you once more that you've no solid evidence of _anything_, so save yourself and your sister anymore turmoil that could escalate in time and surrender your futile efforts. If you're as perspicacious as your occupation would suggest, then you will move along and forget about the incursion she was _fortunate_ enough to survive and pretend this little confrontation of ours never transpired."

Squirming against him, she whispered "Do you promise to leave us alone, then?"

"As you so wish."

He stepped away and went back for his desk, leaving her right hipbone throbbing from the sudden release and her senses bewitched. Resisting the urge to spit on him or backhand that lovely jawline of his, she scoffed as she trembled to open the door.

"You've got a lot of problems, doctor."

"Have a nice day, Miss Dawes," he said benevolently, as if nothing even the slightest bit terse had crossed between the two of them over those few minutes. By God, he was freakishly immaculate. As she stepped out into the hall, she, for some, unclear reason, found it necessary to inform him of her first name. She knew their business was far from over even if he did not. She'd be back.

x

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_I'd like to like my reviewer and those who've followed/favorited. Thank you for reading. Review, let me know how ya like it, or not :) This will follow the events of Batman Begins chronologically (or closely enough) onto The Dark Knight in the long run._


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